There's never enough time
by HR always live on
Summary: HR set post S10 and AU. Harry is trying to cope with life without Ruth, with limited success. Then he wakes up, and his life is turned upside down by something he didn't expect. Chapter 13 up.
1. Chapter 1

**Another multi chap fic from me. AU, set post S10 and has some sci fi elements, so probably not the story for you if you want realism. Thanks to TheChicaChic for giving me a helping hand with this one.**

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**25th December 2011 1:03am**

Time had ticked on by and another Christmas day had come. Harry sat in his arm chair, a glass of whisky in his right hand. He was coming to rely on the drink these days, even though he knew it was a slippery slope. She was dead. She was gone. She was buried in some cold graveyard in Devon. And there was nothing he could do to make things right. It was far, far too late. Her face came into his mind of the last time he'd seen her. Happy and alive. Alive in all senses of the word. Then Sasha had… Harry shied away from even the thought of it. He couldn't contemplate it. Forming the words, even in his thoughts made them true. The rational part of himself knew that he was in denial, even though she'd… left him two months ago.

Harry turned to the whisky glass and it was empty. When had that happened? He poured some more from his decanter and took another large sip. He knew perfectly well that Ruth would hate him doing this to himself. Drinking himself into oblivion, but it was the only way he ever managed to drift into any kind of sleep. And it was hardly like she was here to stop him after all. Harry kept thinking of her as he kept drinking. The ache of her loss, especially when they'd come so close to having what they'd both wanted for so long.

Those thoughts were still whizzing around his head when he fell into the first deep sleep he'd had since Ruth had died.

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He awoke in a complete haze, totally confused as his mind tried to catch up. He stood up, his back almost creaking in protest at the night spent in his arm chair. That's when a file of papers slid to the floor, scattering pages everywhere. He picked them up out of habit and organised them back into the file. It took a moment for his eyes to connect with his brain, and for him to make sense of the papers. No, this couldn't be right. This was from the enquiry into his MI5 career nearly five months ago. These were the beginnings of the defence that himself and… Ruth had been organising. Why had that file been on his lap? He hadn't touched it since his name had been cleared, and he was almost positive it had remained within a locked drawer in Thames House.

He frowned and put the file on the coffee table. He stretched and looked at the decanter. It was full. He took the stopper off and breathed in the aroma. Yes, definitely whisky. A 12 year old Macallan from the smell of it. He knew he'd had a bit to drink last night, or more than a bit really. How could it be full? How long had he been sleeping for? Had he missed some days? Or maybe he'd drunk so much that he had blacked out his memory, he thought darkly.

Coffee would fix it. Yes. He was in his hallway when the letterbox rattled. Today's newspaper had been dropped off and fallen onto his doormat. Scarlett ran towards it, yapping excitedly as Harry bent to pick it up. He rarely read the paper these days. He just glanced at the cover to be sure the world was still standing and London hadn't been bombed while he slept.

His eyes were stinging with tiredness and he knew they'd be bloodshot without even looking in a mirror. He switched the kettle on, looked at the headline and frowned. No. That couldn't be right. The headline was about Amy Winehouse's death… this had to be an old paper. Yes. He looked at the date which read 25th July 2011. A very old paper then. Why had that been dropped off to him today? He shrugged, feeling incredibly confused as the kettle boiled. Maybe he was simply becoming unhinged by Ruth's loss. That was probably the most rational explanation.

Making himself coffee, he groaned as he felt the muscles in his back begin to stretch and wake up. He felt old today. Old, tired and ill. His doorbell rang and he sighed. He wasn't up for company today. Maybe he wouldn't be ever again. He ignored it, but then it rang a second time. Harry sighed, and went to answer it, hoping whoever it was would just go away quickly and not bother him with a long conversation. Or even worse, a request to come inside and bother him from his depression.

Then he opened the door. Ruth. She stood there on his doorstep, clear as day. He froze and stared at her. She was really in front of him. Her shoulder length hair blowing gently in the breeze, her wise intelligent eyes watching him. It really was her. She stood on his doorstep, files in her hands as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't had a shard of glass puncture her lung. As if she'd never been stabbed in the first place. Was he hallucinating? He had to be. Then she spoke.

"Harry, I have the files you wanted to prepare for the inquiry," she said, indicating the bundle in her arms. "Can I…" She didn't get any further, because Harry had fainted, falling onto the hall carpet.

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**Please leave a review if you have a chance. More in the next few days.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the encouragement for the first chapter. Enjoy.**

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Ruth looked at him, in a dead faint on the floor. Not exactly how she'd expected to find him. There was no possibility that she could lift him, so she walked around his figure on the floor, closed the door and crouched next to his head, waiting for him to come around. "Harry?" she hesitated for a moment before putting her hand on his head in what she hoped would be a comforting gesture.

It took about a minute for his eyes to flutter open, and when they did she reluctantly stopped touching him. "I didn't expect to find you collapsed in a heap on your doorstep," she said.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a quiet hush.

"We arranged to meet," she said. "To talk about the inquiry. Don't you remember?" His eyes were wide as he sat up, one hand against his temple. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"The inquiry?"

"Yes," she said, worry clouding over her face at the look of shock he was giving her. "Do you remember the Albany fiasco?" she asked softly.

"Yes, of course," he said. "I think… I'm not feeling well."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" He spoke so urgently that she looked at him in surprise. The silence became uncomfortable very quickly, especially as he was watching her with such a strong intensity.

"Harry, what's going on?" she asked quietly.

"What's the date?" he asked.

"Er… July 25th 2011," she said. "Harry, you're worrying me."

"No, its just…" He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stood up and walked into his kitchen, feeling dazed. Ruth followed him, a little wary of his behaviour. This wasn't the Harry she was used to.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" she asked as Harry looked at her. "You're looking at me… like… I don't know."

"I seem to have been… hallucinating," he said. "It's really July?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm here… we've got to get to work on preparing your defence for the inquiry Harry. Or should I leave while you… pull yourself together."

"Don't go," he said, trying to hide the pleading in his voice. "Do you want a drink?"

"Tea," she said. "Please." Harry made her drink in silence, his eyes flicking towards the date on the newspaper every so often, as if reconfirming that he really was in July rather than December. His hands shook slightly as he stirred sugar into her mug while thinking. Or attempting to think. This was insane. Where had Christmas day gone? Oh, to hell with that, why was Ruth sitting at his kitchen table when he'd held her as she died in his arms. This was… insane.

"I think I should leave," she said, speaking from behind him while Harry tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Or gone right as the case may be, now that Ruth was… here. "So you have time to… sober up."

"I'm not drunk," he said turning around. "I promise you."

"You just seem… strange," Ruth said.

"I know." Harry handed her the mug and she smiled her thanks, seeming a little wary of him. He couldn't blame her, he must be behaving rather randomly. Harry took a deep breath, determined not to waste this precious time. Whether it was a hallucination, a dream or the slim chance that this might actually be reality, he couldn't afford to waste any time with her. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked.

Her eyes widened at the unexpected question. They both knew what was between them but it always remained unspoken, and she was more than a little surprised to have him say anything at all. Let alone a dinner invitation. "I can't," she said with reluctance.

"Oh." He looked down at the floor in disappointment. "I understand."

"No, I want to," she said. "But I cant. You're not supposed to be having contact with anyone from the grid until the inquiry clears you. We can't be seen out together."

"Oh. Of course," he said. Harry had forgotten this and she could tell that he was relieved she wasn't saying no because she didn't want to. "But you managed to be here today." The hint of a question was there and she smiled again.

"I may be a desk spook," she said with disdain at the term. "But I've been working for you long enough to pick up some tips and avoid detection. I need to be at work in an hour and we've got time before your babysitters arrive. And I altered the CCTV they're watching so it doesn't show me arriving."

"Okay," he said. "How about fish and chips tonight. We'll eat in. If you'd like."

She paused for a moment, taking a sip of tea to buy herself some time. When she lowered her mug, he saw that she was smiling and he felt a lessening of tension in his stomach.

"Okay," she said. "That'd be nice. I'll pick up dinner though."

"No, don't be…"

"I insist," she said. "I'm less likely to be followed and there's a great little fish and chip shop I like that make the tastiest chips in the world."

"Okay," he said, relenting. "Later tonight then."

"Mm," she agreed, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling at him. He smiled back, choosing for the moment to forget the impossibility of this moment, instead dedicate it to memorising Ruth's face exactly.

"Harry, you're watching me," she said nervously.

"Sorry," he said. "Thank you for the files."

"There should be information to help," she said. "I'll smuggle some more files out tonight. Let you have a read of them. Similar cases or charges to yours."

"Great," he said. He wanted to kiss her, but if this was really July… if this was really happening, it was too soon. And if he were hallucinating, he didn't want to do anything to break this wonderful dream. Unfortunately fate intervened. Ruth's phone rang and Harry knew she'd have to go back to the grid. After a very brief conversation she looked at him apologetically.

"I have to go."

"Are you going to be late tonight?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said. "I'll text you, to let you know."

"However late it is, you're still welcome here," he said. He knew he sounded a little desperate, but wasn't that the truth? He was desperate. To see her for a little longer. For as long as he could.

"Okay," she said. "Bye Harry." He almost held his breath as she turned and left his house. Within a minute it was as if she'd never been here. Except for the half drunk tea and the scent of roses in the air, he could have dreamt the whole thing. Maybe he had, because the alternative was unrealistic and impossible. He breathed in deeply, and could feel his heart racing. When he stopped shaking he made a decision. He went upstairs to his office and opened his laptop. As soon as he could, he went online to check the date. July 25th 2011. 7:43 and a handful of seconds.

Harry watched in silence as the seconds ticked away, simply staring at his computer screen. The clock reached 7:58 before he actually moved. He checked his latest emails to Catherine and read them. She was in Paris on her honeymoon. Which she had been in July. Which is where she currently was, Harry reminded himself, beginning to actually appreciate that this might be happening.

Of course it would happen to him. A man who believes in nothing beyond what he can see and touch. He didn't believe in anything other worldly at all. Not ghosts, not spirits, not life after death, however comforting that might have been with Ruth over the last few weeks. He hadn't believed in Santa when he was a child. He didn't even believe in God. So how could this be happening to him?

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**More when it's written.**


	3. Chapter 3

Ruth stifled a yawn as she shut her computer down. Seven o'clock in the evening and she was getting off of work. That wasn't bad, all things considered. She sent Harry a text to his second phone which couldn't be traced to say she was on her way.

"How is he?" Ruth looked up, instinctively tucking her phone in her pocket. But she relaxed when she saw it was only Tariq. "Harry," he said, as if there was any doubt. "I know you're seeing him."

"I think he's okay," Ruth said. "He was behaving… strangely this morning. But I think he was just hung over. He'd clearly slept in what he was wearing." Ruth was speaking to herself really, but that hadn't occurred to her until she'd thought about it. His shirt had been incredibly creased and he looked bedraggled. Turning her attention to Tariq, she smiled. "He's good," she said.

"Good," Tariq said. "I want him back as our boss. I'm not fond of Erin."

"He wants to be back," Ruth said. "I have to go," she added as her phone buzzed in her pocket with a reply. "I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, she got up, and left the grid, heading to her favourite chippy. She was looking forward to tonight.

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Harry's day had been highly stressful for a man who'd done little of value. He'd completely ignored the files Ruth had brought over, as the inquiry wasn't the problem at the moment. He had bigger things to worry about. He'd taken Scarlet for a walk, and decided that due to the heat, it most certainly was not December. Apart from that, he'd spent his time wondering how this could have happened. He entertained every possibility, logical and very illogical. This was hardly a rational situation after all. He even wondered if he'd dreamed Ruth's death. But no. He couldn't have. He could still feel his hand staunching her wound. The warm blood rushing from her body and over his fingers as she spluttered for breath and he prayed for help which didn't come in time. No. He hadn't dreamt that. His imagination was neither that realistic or vivid.

When he received Ruth's text he felt both relief, and a lessening of the dreadful tension that had taken residence in his stomach. He really had seen her that morning, and he'd be seeing her again shortly. That was such a relief that it made him dizzy.

It wasn't long before there was a light knock on his kitchen door. He opened it and saw a windblown Ruth on his doorstep. "Not the front door?"

"You're still being watched," she said simply. "I felt it was safer. Hungry?"

"Starving," he agreed. The scent of chips that had followed her in was delicious. "Would you like some wine?"

Ruth paused for a moment but then nodded. "Have you got white?"

"Chilling in the fridge," he said. He neglected to mention that he'd also opened a bottle of red wine to breathe, in case she fancied that instead. He opened the door and uncorked it, pouring two glasses as Ruth unwrapped their meals. "Oh that smells good," he said.

"Yes, I'm really hungry," she said, taking a glass of wine. "Oh, that's a good sauvignon blanc." Harry smiled at her as she took her coat off and sat down, looking more beautiful than he'd ever remembered.

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Their meals were finished surprisingly quickly, and Ruth sighed with happiness at a full stomach. "You haven't eaten today have you?" Harry asked, topping their wine glasses up.

"You know me too well," she said. "I get distracted by work and forget lunch. But that was really good."

"Yes," he agreed.

"Unfortunately, I think we should get to work," she said. "We need to go through the information. Now, you can do it on your own, but I thought I'd… help."

"If we have to," he said reluctantly. He didn't want to work when he had Ruth in his house drinking wine. Work was the last thing he wanted to do, especially as he didn't know how much time he had with her. He had to assume this was real after all. She rolled her eyes slightly, and he knew he had no choice if he wanted her to stay. "I'll get the files."

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Several hours later Ruth was beginning to look beautifully tired. Harry couldn't stop watching her as she highlighted sections of paperwork and pointed out issues that meant Harry didn't have a case to answer to. She looked breathtaking. Her hair was framing her face, no matter how often she pushed it back and she kept pinching the bridge of her nose with tiredness. He knew she wouldn't stop until she fell asleep at the table and felt unworthy of her faith and the trust that she had in him.

At eleven in the evening, Harry stopped her, closing the file she was currently reading. She looked up in surprise. "I think that's enough work for tonight," he said. She looked at her watch, then nodded.

"You might be right."

"Mm," Harry said, looking at the empty wine bottle. "Shall I open another?"

"I really shouldn't," she said. "I want to ask you something." The tone caught his attention, and he knew this was important. So he nodded, silently asking her to continue. "Why? Why did you trade Albany for my life?" He took in a deep breath, preparing his answer. "I mean, you couldn't know that Lucas would keep his word, and even putting that aside, it was committing treason to do it." He tilted his head slightly, eyes bright. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did. I didn't want to die," she added in a small voice.

"Ruth, your life is worth more than my career," he said simply and quietly. "Why wouldn't I have traded something physically worthless, even if it were illegal, for your life?"

She smiled at him, but then bit her lip. "What would you have done… had Albany been functional?"

"Probably the same," he said. "Albany was never going to be used, Ruth. If it were real, whichever government or country had it, it would never have been used. The fear… that's what it would have created."

"You can't know that Harry," she said.

"No. I can't. But in the moment and on the day, I'd probably have been selfish rather than selfless. I couldn't allow you to die when I could have so easily stopped it. But I am glad that that terrible choice wasn't given to me to make."

"Mm," she said. "Me too. I couldn't live with that on my conscience Harry."

Silence descended on the room, and all Ruth could hear was the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. "I should probably go home," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Yes," he agreed. It was late after all and she would be at work tomorrow. "Let me call you a taxi."

"Okay," she said, not arguing with him. He nodded and got up to find the number, then quickly calling through. Ruth only overheard half the conversation but she wasn't paying an awful lot of attention. She was wondering what Harry's lips would feel like against hers, and whether he'd kiss her goodnight. She badly wanted him to.

She stood up, intending to make a move, most likely emboldened by wine.  
"It'll be here in ten minutes," Harry said, coming back into the room. "And my minders have vanished, so you're more than welcome to use the front door if you…" he was silenced as she kissed him. He closed his eyes as his arms wrapped around her back, out of instinct. She drew back far too soon, looking at him nervously. He smiled and leaned in, kissing her again. He flicked his tongue over her lips and she opened her mouth, more than willing. She let out a quiet little moan that had him putting his hands on her hips and pulling her firmly against him before he'd even put thought into it. But she didn't seem to mind that her breasts were pushing against his chest. The very opposite and he felt her fingers entwining with his hair.

The kiss went on and on, and Ruth kept making small moans of pleasure that had Harry fighting the urge to carry her upstairs to bed and make love to her all night long.

Ruth pulled away from him and he looked at her in confusion. "My taxi's here," she said breathlessly.

"How can you tell?"

"Didn't you hear him beep the horn?"

"No," he said honestly. She smiled at him and slipped her coat on.

"I'll see you soon." She reached for him and kissed his cheek before vanishing into the night. Harry put his fingers to his lips, feeling her kiss there. He wasn't imagining it. Not any of this. He'd really gone back and Ruth was still alive. He was going to do his damnedest to make sure it stayed that way.

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**More when it's written. Thank you for reading and the wonderful reviews so far.**


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Harry didn't see Ruth all day, and he fought hard to stave off the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. He spent most of the day working on the report of Ruth's many qualities and how many terror attacks she'd averted in her time at MI5. He'd already written it once before, so it didn't take deep thinking power, but enough to keep him distracted. He did call her in the evening though. He couldn't not call her.

"What?" she said when she answered, sounding very tired, which made Harry immediately feel guilty for calling. Not guilty enough to leave her alone to sleep. With all the events that would unfold over the next few months, he couldn't leave her alone. Not if it all happened again and his chances of ever speaking to her once again vanished.

"Hi," he said. "Did I wake you?"

"Not really," she said. "Just glad it's not a red flash." He could hear the relief in her voice and he smiled.

"I only wanted to make sure you were okay," he said.

"I'm fine," she said. "How's your defence going?"

"Slowly," he replied. "I'm not worried about the inquiry." There was a pause, Ruth not speaking so he continued. "Are you?"

"Yes," she said. "Very. What if it goes badly? What if you're sacked? Or worse, they decide to try you for treason!"

"It won't come to that," he said surely. "They don't dare throw me in prison because I know too much. Losing my job is a possibility, but like I told you yesterday, your life is worth more than my job."

Ruth sighed heavily, and he wanted to say something to comfort her but nothing came to mind. "How was work?"

"I hate extremists," she said simply and Harry laughed lightly.

"I don't think they're there to make your job easier," he said.

"No, of course not," she said. "But I have to sift through some of their handiwork and… it wasn't pleasant today." Harry didn't press her, knowing that she'd confide in him if she wanted to. Which, about thirty seconds of silence later, she did. "I spent all of today going through reports of torture, hospital reports on the victims, coroners reports and photographs. It's not been fun."

"Do you want me to come over?" he asked softly. He knew that he'd never have made this offer if he hadn't experienced Ruth… dying, but he had. And his reticence and self control when it came to her didn't seem as important.

"No Harry," she said, and he could tell she was smiling. "I've dealt with this before, I probably will again, and I'm a big girl. It just… gets me down after a while."

"Understandably," he said. "How is Erin Watts doing?"

"I don't like her," Ruth said predictably. "But then, I probably wouldn't like anyone sitting in your office, lording it over us poor employees."

"Is that how you saw me when I was sat there?" he asked, feeling a little hurt.

"Of course not," Ruth said. "You… well, got your hands dirty," she said. "You wanted to be involved in operational decisions, and were willing to take your share of the blame, should things go wrong. She just… sits and pushes paper clips around on your desk."

Harry smiled at that description. "I'll be back there soon enough," he said.

"I hope so," she replied. "It's really not the same without you." Harry felt his heart stop for a moment. This was perhaps the most honest conversation they'd ever had.

"I want to take you out to dinner," he said. "Saturday night?"

"Can you lose your tails?" she asked after a moments hesitation. "Because I'd like to go out with you, but I don't want any extra unexpected guests."

"I'll lose them," he said firmly. "So, is that a yes?"

"Yes," she said. "Saturday then."

Harry could feel the conversation drawing to it's natural conclusion, so he said something he'd been thinking about. "Ruth, can you promise me something without asking any questions?"

"What?"

"There's some abandoned nuclear shelters in Norfolk," he said. "A remnant from the cold war years."

"Yes, I know where they are," she said.

"Promise me you won't go there," he said urgently. "Not for any reason."

"Why?" she asked, clearly confused. "Why would I go there?"

"Please," he replied. "Just stay away."

"Okay, fine," she said. "If it's that important to you, I'll leave it alone. I don't have any desire to go there anyway."

"Good," Harry said fervently.

"There's no point me asking why is there?" she said.

"No. Sorry."

"Okay," she replied, surprisingly calm.

"You're not arguing?" he said.

"I know you, Harry. You don't ask me to do things, or not do them in this case without a reason. Just because you're not sharing that reason with me doesn't mean it's unimportant."

"Well, thank you for trusting me," he said, voice soft as velvet.

"I'll see you on Saturday then," she said.

"Absolutely. Good night Ruth."

"Night Harry."

Ruth put the phone down and looked at it in slight confusion. What was Harry talking about? Why would she suddenly get the urge to go to Norfolk? To visit an abandoned shelter? It was more than a little odd. Not the strangest thing he'd asked her over the years while working for him, but it came close. She shrugged and rolled over in bed, intending to go to sleep. After all, she was sure that Harry had his reasons.

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**More when it's written, but probably not before Christmas. Thank you for the reviews so far, they really make my day.**


	5. Chapter 5

Harry smoothed his light blue shirt down, feeling both nervous and excited about tonight. He couldn't wait to spend a night with Ruth that was away from terrorists, and in a totally social setting, as opposed to work. Also, he wasn't entirely sure how long he had with this… strange situation so he wanted to make the most of it. Especially if he woke up, and Ruth was dead, or he was unable to prevent what would happen in only a few short weeks.

He checked his appearance in the mirror again, wanting everything to be perfect for tonight, before he picked up his keys and left the house. His car was about half a mile away as he wanted to make sure that his followers thought he was still in the house, or at the very least, lose his tails.

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Ruth had changed her outfit at least a dozen times, which was ridiculous. Harry had seen her for years, her choice of dress wouldn't change his long held opinion of her. Which had to be good, she thought to herself. Otherwise he wouldn't have wanted to spend time with her. After everything that had happened, or not happened between them as the case may be, this was a good development. Things between them were usually unspoken, and only experienced in subtle changes in the atmosphere between them. But this was different. And very good.

"Oh to hell with it," she said. She slipped into her black dress, which she'd been debating on wearing. She'd bought it about a year ago, but never worn it, as it was a dress for a special occasion. Which occasion could be more special than going out to dinner with Harry? So she pulled the zip up and looked in the mirror. It was much more revealing than anything she'd worn in about a decade. Knee length and figure hugging, with thin straps over her shoulders. She bit her lip and wondered if she was too old to pull it off. While thinking about it, she put her heels on and then the doorbell rang before she could think her outfit through any further. It would be Harry, and she'd run out of time. She hurried to answer it, and when she did, she found Harry, smiling at her. His face froze as he looked at her, eyes going slowly over her figure. His eyes ran over her with such intensity that she blushed, and started to reconsider her dress.

"You look…" his eyes returned to hers, glowing with intensity. "Incredible."

"Thank you," she said, smiling back. "You don't look too bad yourself." In fact, he looked very good in a pristine open necked shirt and a dark jacket. She loved how he looked without a tie, and she wished she saw him more often like that. Maybe today was the start.

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Ruth stayed silent on the journey back to her flat. They had had a delicious dinner, and she felt both full, happy and very content. They'd discussed normal things that normal people talked about. Books, films, travel and all the wonderfully frivolous things in life. They'd avoided talking about politics or anything at all that might have made the news recently, including terrorism. They also by an unspoken agreement avoided mentioning the upcoming inquiry. Neither of them wanted to taint the evening with that unpleasantness.

"Harry, that meal was incredible," she said. "Thank you."

"And you're beautiful and intelligent company to share it with," he said, catching her eye briefly, before looking back at the road. He seemed more happy and relaxed than she'd ever seen him and it was startling and enjoyable to get this insight into the personal Harry, rather than the professional one. He parked outside her flat and turned to her. The streetlights were illuminating the car, so he could still see her face. "Tonight was wonderful."

"Yes," she said. "It really was." Somehow, with neither of them being aware of who'd moved first, they ended up kissing each other. Harry stroked her cheek gently, fingers ending up in her hair as his tongue pressed against her full lips. She opened her mouth with a sigh of pleasure, her fingertips softly caressing his neck.  
They broke apart for air and he could see Ruth's eyes, bright and he wanted her.

"I'm not going to invite you in," she said, her voice low and almost seductive, in contrast with her words.

"Oh?" he asked, keeping his voice purposefully neutral.

"I want to," she said. "But, I'm not going to. I want… I _need_ time." Harry must have looked at her with disappointment, regret or something similar because she looked at him and the warmth in her eyes had vanished in an instant. The atmosphere in the car had changed within a moment and it now felt cold. "Is that… is that all this is?" she asked, and he could tell she was hurt from the tone of her voice. "You just want sex?"

"Ruth, no," he said, but the damage had been done.

"I thought we were having a wonderful evening, and all the time you were wondering whether you were going to sleep with me tonight?"

"Ruth, let me explain…"

"No," she said forcefully. "I…" She sighed heavily. "Goodnight Harry," she said coldly. She left the car, and vanished into her flat within moments. Harry stared at her empty doorway, wishing he had thought of something to say that would have made her stay and listen. Because it hadn't been the fact that she'd said no to sex that had made him react like that, it was the fact that she'd told him that she needed "more time." And that terrified him, because time was something that he didn't have to give.

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**More soon. Hope you enjoyed.**


	6. Chapter 6

Harry had had a restless night, tossing and turning. He wanted to call Ruth and explain. But he knew she'd be more reasonable after she had some time to calm down, so as much as it annoyed him, he waited. At around lunchtime, he went over to her house. She didn't have the option of hanging up on him if he saw her in person. He didn't really expect her too, she might be upset and hurt, but she wasn't childish, but he was covering all of his options, just in case.

He pressed the intercom to her flat and waited. "Yes?"

"It's Harry," he said. "I want to speak to you." Silence, which wasn't promising. "Ruth, I'll wait here all day if I have to, I need to talk to you."

"Come on up," she said, letting him in. Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the first obstacle being overcome. Then he gave himself a shake, because this wasn't a game. Not by a long shot.

He knocked on the door of her flat, and she opened it quickly, moving aside to let him in. She wore pyjama trousers and a baggy jumper. She was clearly having a lazy Sunday, and he felt a brief stab of guilt for ruining it. Only a tiny bit though.

"What is it?" she asked. Harry noted in the back of his mind that she hadn't offered him a drink, so she was still angry.

"Last night was not what you assumed," he said.

"You looked…" she paused, trying to think of the right word. "Let down and disappointed. Very disappointed. And I probably overreacted, but I don't like to think of… being used like that."

"That was never my intention," he said firmly. "And it was never about sex either."

"Then why did you react like that?" she asked quietly.

Harry bit his lip, but then decided on the truth. Or part of it, at least. Because the genuine truth was unbelievable. "It was when you said time," he said. "And I'm frightened."

"Of what?" she asked confused.

"Ruth, we've wasted so much time. I'm afraid that… that we're going to run out of it."

"Harry…" she said quietly. This was so unlike him, to admit fear over anything that it softened her heart. "Why now? What's changed to two months ago? Two years?"

"I nearly lost you," he said. "You could have died with Lucas and… that has made me realise what's important."

"Harry, that doesn't make a lot of sense."

"With the job we do, our tomorrows are never guaranteed. And when you said you needed more time, I panicked. Just for a moment, and that's what you saw on my face. It doesn't have to be rational Ruth, it was how I felt at the time. I wasn't using you."

Ruth sighed heavily and then let a small smile appear on her face. "That's good to hear," she said. "You could have called you know."

"I didn't want you to hang up on me," he admitted.

"I was upset, I'm not immature."

"Because storming out of the car before I can explain is rational," he said pointedly.

"Harry… I've been used like that before, and I won't do it again," she said. "Do you want some tea?"

He was thrown slightly by the abbrupt change in conversation, but then nodded, grateful for her acceptance. "Thank you."

* * *

"How long?" she asked quietly. He looked at her, wondering what she was asking him. They'd spent a few hours together, talking quietly and enjoying each others company, and Harry really hadn't wanted to leave. Which was good, as Ruth showed no signs of wanting him to go either. At the moment they were sitting on the sofa, Ruth resting her head against his chest as he stroked her hair lightly, listening to the rain hammering down on the window. It was actually turning into a highly pleasant Sunday afternoon. "How long until the inquiry?"

"A couple of weeks," he said darkly. It was a waste of his time, to be preparing for it, when he knew that his defence would be worthless, as they'd ignore it, and pointless in the end, because the Russians were coming to London, so he'd be reinstated. The Russians, he remembered with the effect of ice slipping into his stomach. An event he couldn't stop from happening, but he hoped to God the ending would be changed. That he could somehow change it.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up," Ruth said, interpreting the dark look on his face.

"It'll be fine," he said, making an effort to lighten things. "Your research has helped."

"I'm worried," she said. "Thames House isn't… Thames House without you." He caught her eyes and saw the meaning behind her words. That she was frightened he'd be found guilty and be forced to retire. He wouldn't be put in prison, because he knew too much.

"Whatever they say, I'm not going to stop seeing you." She smiled happily at that.

"By the way, how have you lost your tails?"

"Malcolm's rigged the electrics in my house," Harry said. "Every now and then a light will go on or off, and the radio will be switched on. They still think I'm there."

"Okay," she said. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the touch of Harry's fingers sliding through her hair.

He didn't want to break the moment, but he knew he had to. "Even with that, I should get back," he said.

"I know," she said softly, without moving. After a minute, she turned towards him and touched his face gently. She smiled, then moved to kiss him. He let her and before long they were horizontal on the sofa, Ruth laid on top of him, his hands roaming her back gently as they kept kissing each other.

"I really should go," Harry breathed, but making no effort to get up. Instead he smiled at her as she closed her lips on his yet again.

* * *

**More soon, but I haven't quite planned which way this is going. Thanks for the reviews so far.**


	7. Chapter 7

Before Harry knew it, it was the day before the inquiry. He hadn't seen Ruth again, but they had spoken every night on the phone. The conversations were long, and varied from casual and light flirting to the seriousness of the coming investigation into his career, and everything in between. Those conversations kept Harry sane. He swung between total paralysing fear that he could lose Ruth all over again, the hope that at least he had time to change it, and the feeling that this situation was completely crazy. Most days he lived with all three emotions.

That evening, he went to walk Scarlet and when he came back he knew something was wrong. There was nothing to say someone had broken into his house, the door was perfectly locked as he left it but he had a sixth sense that someone was inside. Spook sense. He tightened his grip on Scarlet's lead, wishing he had a weapon of some description.

He unlocked the door, looking into the darkness warily. Very slowly he walked into the house. "Harry, it's only me." He relaxed slightly at Ruth's familiar voice, but was still wary.  
"Ruth?"

"I didn't turn the light on, just in case you were still being watched," she said quietly. Harry switched the light on in the living room and saw Ruth sitting on the arm chair, smiling at him slightly.

Before anyone could say anything Scarlet whined, pulling at the lead. Harry let go, and the dog raced to Ruth, panting happily. Ruth smiled, and petted her. "She's gorgeous," she said quietly.

"What are you doing here Ruth?" he asked. She looked up at him, clearly hurt. "Not that I'm not happy to see you," he said. "Of course I am." She smiled, stood up and kissed him. He was surprised, but after a moment he responded eagerly as she pressed herself up against him.

"Mm," he murmured, his hands on her back, pulling her close as they kept kissing. She felt exquisitely good. "Why are you here?" he whispered in between kisses.

"I needed to see you," she said. She buried her head into his chest as he stroked her back softly, reassuringly.

"I wanted to see you too," he said, smiling into her hair. She sighed heavily.

"I'm worried about tomorrow."

"It'll be fine," he said. She closed her eyes and kissed him again, passionate and intense. A kiss that was leading somewhere. "Ruth?" She ignored that and carried on, her fingers sliding under his coat and pushing it off until it fell to the floor. "Ruth, slow down," he said. She drew back and looked at him in confusion. "Ruth, are you… is this heading where I think it's heading?"

"Probably," she said, her blue eyes gazing into his. "It depends on what you're thinking."

"Ruth, after what you said the other day…"

"Harry," she interrupted. "I want a relationship with you. I don't want us to be tip toeing around each other or whatever it is we've been doing for the last few years. I don't want to hesitate any longer, I want everything. I just want you."

"Ruth," he said quietly, not entirely sure what to say to that. She didn't wait. She leaned forward and kissed him again. Harry stroked her hair gently and then froze as she started unbuttoning his shirt. "Ruth, you need to promise me that you won't run from me."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said surely. "I promise."

* * *

Harry awoke early and opened his eyes, fearing that last night had been a dream. It hadn't. His eyes settled on Ruth's sleeping figure, wrapped carelessly in a sheet and he smiled. Whatever happened in the future, he would always have the memory of last night to hold onto. He now knew how it felt to hold her, to love her and to kiss her with all the love he had. And it had been perfectly wonderful. Her hair was in messy tangles on the white pillowcase, her face relaxed and peaceful.

Last night had been amazing, and in ways he hadn't expected. He had thought that Ruth would be shy and reserved when it came to sex but he'd been very wrong. He ached to touch her, but he didn't want to wake her. He turned over and looked at the clock. Six thirty in the morning, and he had to be at the inquiry by nine. Plenty of time to lay down and watch Ruth sleep contentedly. At least for a few more minutes.

He did, then he smiled as she rubbed a hand over her face, beginning to wake. "Oh," she groaned to herself.

"Morning," he said. Her eyes popped open, she turned to him and smiled happily.

"So that really happened last night?" she asked.

"Yes," Harry said, beginning to worry. "Why?"

"I wondered if I dreamt it," she said.

Harry decided to pull at that line of thought. "Do you often dream of us making love?" he asked, voice low and seductive.

"Oh, only every night," she said.

"Every night?"

"Mm," she agreed. She leaned close to him and gave him a good morning kiss.

"Ruth, what changed?" he asked. "After our dinner date, with what you said… That you didn't want to be used for sex, and then last night came out of nowhere."

"I reacted wrongly," she said. "I just… it's true, I don't want to be used for sex, but between us it's always going to be more than that. Isn't it?"

"Yes," he assured her. "It is. Of course it is."

She nodded and curled into his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. She wrapped her legs around one of his and it felt wonderful. To be this close and connected to her. Ruth moved her face so she could kiss him, long and lingering.

Ruth sighed heavily when they parted. "I'm worried about today."

"It will be fine," Harry said. He spoke with such certainty that she looked at him, confused.

"Have you got a crystal ball?" she asked. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I have faith," he said.

"And I never thought you had an optimistic outlook on life," she said.

"Well, everything looks brighter this morning."

"Are you always this happy after sex?"

"After sex with you, well…" he started. "Maybe we'll have to repeat it and find out." She smiled at him, before looking at the clock.

"I have to go home," she said.

"Why?"

"I need to shower and grab a change of clothes," she said. "I'm not going to this thing wearing yesterdays clothes."

"That's fair," he said. "I just don't want you to go." Ruth smiled at that before getting out of bed. Harry watched appreciatively, her naked figure beautiful in the early morning light through the window. She started to get dressed and he sighed with disappointment as she covered up. She smirked at him, as if reading his mind. "Don't look at me like that," she said quietly.

"I thought you liked the way I look at you," he said, teasing lightly.

"I do," she said. "But not when I have to leave. And I'm nervous for today."

"It will be fine," he said. She nodded, leaned across the bed and kissed him slowly.

"I'll see you later," she said.

"Mm," he replied, caressing her lips with his own. "Bye." Harry stayed still until she'd left the house, the alarm worryingly silent as she opened the door. Of course, he'd never set it. Ruth had distracted him. Thinking about the wonderful distraction was a bad idea. He had to be focused today, but he couldn't stop thinking of Ruth.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading so far.**


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next week, Harry and Ruth barely even spoke, though not for lack of trying. Every day Ruth insisted on being present at the inquiry, even though a lot of it was boring and irrelevant. They were both aware of the fact their relationship was coming under scrutiny from the panel, so they hardly spoke in public, and when they did it was strained, because they knew they could be being overheard. But as well as spending her days at the inquiry, she was also refusing to fall behind at work, which left her with long evenings spent on the grid. They had shared a few late night phone calls, but they were both tired from the pressure of the inquiry, so they didn't speak as freely as usual.

It was with relief that the final day of the inquiry approached. Whichever way they decided, she'd stop worrying, and her relationship could resume from where they'd unfortunately left off.

Ruth found herself tossing and turning sleeplessly, the night before. She was far too worried. At midnight her phone rang. It was with only a mild annoyance that she answered it, an annoyance which vanished when she heard Harry's voice.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I know it's late but I haven't seen you in so long. Not properly. Can I come over?"

"You're already outside aren't you?" she said, knowing him too well.

"Well, at least I didn't break in, like you did to my house."

"Fair enough," she said. "Hang on, I'll just unlock the door and disable the alarm." She ended the call and hurried to the door of her flat, typing in the number to the alarm before opening the door. She smiled at Harry, so immediate and solid in front of her. Before she could finish drinking him in with her eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and she sighed into his chest. He felt so warm and solid and real and as she breathed in, she could smell that wonderful Harry scent. "Oh, I've missed you."

"So have I," he said, kissing the top of her head. He stroked her hair, his palm going down her neck, then her arm until he held her hand gently. They still stood in the doorway and Ruth backed up a few steps, so Harry could close the door.

"Are you staying here tonight?" she asked. He looked at her, wondering if she didn't want him to. "So I can set the alarm," she elaborated.

"Oh," he said. "Yes. Set the alarm." She smiled slightly, and moved away from him to lock up the house. When she'd done that, Harry kissed her gently, and she smiled into the embrace.

"Did you remove Sharecropper?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "Away from the grid computers. He's in the south of France now with no internet or phone access, so he can't be traced, and hisbody will be found in his London house tomorrow."

"Good," he said.

"Are you going to tell me why you wanted an asset moved with no record of it?" she asked. "An asset who has been retired since the eighties."

"I can't," he said. "It's dangerous. It's just… all for the best if Max is out of the country for a while." Until this is over, he thought to himself.

"Okay," she said. "I won't pry." He was grateful for the fact she'd curbed her curiosity, but he knew he wouldn't get away with it once he was back at work. He was going to have to tread very carefully. He kissed her again, trying to drive unpleasant thoughts out of his head. He grunted as Ruth suddenly reached for him and began to stroke him through his trousers. "Bed?" she suggested. Harry needed little persuasion.

* * *

He awoke at six in the morning. He always slept poorly in a bed that wasn't his own, even with the attraction of Ruth next to him. His mind was racing about the enquiry, the Russians and all that was coming in the unpleasantly near future. Even with Ruth sleeping peacefully next to him, he felt agitated. After a minute or two, he went to have a shower. He knew Ruth wouldn't mind and he hoped the running water wouldn't rouse her.

It didn't. Harry dressed quietly, his eyes on the figure in the bed, more so than what he was actually doing. The sheet had slipped off of her, and one breast was revealed. He felt a lump in his throat at the impossibility in front of him. He had to change things, because if he didn't, their life together would be completely robbed from them both. This brief time of having her in his life like this would be gone.

He put his jacket on, then stood simply watching her. Was this how it would always be? That he'd always want more with her? A few weeks ago when life had been turned upside down for him, and Ruth had walked into his house, all he wanted was to see her for a few more hours. To appreciate her company that he now had the chance. Then he'd wanted to kiss her and fantasised about what it would be to spend a night with her. Now he'd done that several times, and he still wanted more. He didn't want there to be a time limit with Ruth. He wanted it all, and he wondered (if he managed to avoid catastrophe) would that ever change. Would he always want more?

If he lost her again, he wasn't entirely sure that he could cope. Especially now that their relationship had developed intimately. He shook his head and then leaned over the bed to kiss her good morning. She sleepily responded and smiled into the embrace. "I have to go," he said quietly.

"Oh, it's early," she said.

"I know," he said. "I'll see you at the inquiry?"

"Yes, I'll be there," she said. "Good luck."

Harry nodded, kissed her cheek and then left her flat, to go and get changed into some fresh clothes, before picking up the Tourmaline drop he knew was waiting for him.

* * *

Everything went exactly as he remembered until he got to the inquiry and the verdict. When he mentioned the report on Ruth's many (professional) qualities, he could feel Ruth's eyes burning through the back of his skull. He tried to resist looking at her, but he had to look at her once. Her lips turned up in a slight smile at him, before her face returned to seriousness and Harry turned towards the panel.

"We've come to a decision regarding your actions with regards to the Albany affair. You are clearly very experienced, as your history speaks for itself. You will be reinstated with the provision that you keep Erin Watts as your section head. We are still concerned with the close relationship between yourself and Miss Evershed. You are both accomplished in your respective fields, but we feel that it would be unwise for you to both work in the same section continually. So we will be requiring transfer papers to a different section for either one of you by the end of the year, so that this unfortunate situation doesn't occur again." Harry was expected to say something, but he was so surprised by the result that he couldn't get his jaw to work. He gave himself a mental shake.

"Thank you for your time," he said, trying to get his mind to work. A general hubbub of conversation broke out and Harry rose from his chair, dreading seeing the look on Ruth's face. When he looked at her, he saw her staring at him, face white and shocked.

* * *

They were in the car, being driven back to the grid and Ruth still hadn't spoken. "Talk to me?"

"I've just lost my job," she said. "Through no fault of my own."

"No, Ruth," he said quietly. "You haven't."

"But they said…"

"I'll retire," he said. "I'm not going to let you lose your job because of my choices. It isn't fair."

"But you can't just retire," she said, her voice slightly higher than usual.

"My time is coming," he said quietly. "I know that, and I think if you were being honest with yourself, you know that too. The service is changing, and me and my kind are being rooted out." She reached across the seat and gripped his hand.

"This wasn't the result I wanted," she said sadly.

"We have time."

"Only a few months," she said. "It's not enough."

No, he thought to himself. It isn't enough time. Not nearly enough. They fell into silence, contemplating the events of the morning. But Harry had thought of something else. Apparently it was possible to change events that weren't solely within his control. And that was a very hopeful thought.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think, and more soon. Thanks for the reviews so far.**


	9. Chapter 9

**It's been a while since I watched series 10, so I hope I have everything in (roughly) the right place and that it makes sense with the minor changes I'm making.**

* * *

That night, they were at Harry's house, in bed together and Ruth seemed very closed off. Either that, or deep in thought. They hadn't made love, and he knew she was too distracted to be even thinking that right now. "Talk to me Ruth," he murmured, reaching for her hand.

"It's ending," she said, her voice no louder than a whisper.

"What is?"

She sighed before speaking, and he knew that she was thinking of how to word it. "Us, on the grid," she eventually said. "The way we work together. How… I suppose how intuitive we are together. It's going to come to an end."

"Yes," he agreed quietly. "But work isn't everything Ruth." She leaned on her elbow to look at him.

"I know." She sighed again. "But I'm still going to miss it. They'll be no one there who knows exactly what I'm thinking."

"Do I really?" he asked.

"More often than not," she said, smiling slightly. "Though the thought _"Harry, take your tie off and undo a couple of buttons"_ usually doesn't get a response." She reached for his throat and stroked the patch of skin that she found so seductive when they were on the grid.

"Oh really?" he said, a teasing note in his voice. The seriousness had vanished somewhat, much to his relief. "What other less than work related thoughts do you have?"

"Oh no," she said. "Your turn to tell me something."

"Mm, lets see," he said, wrapping his arm around her, his fingertips stroking her back gently. "I frequently wish you'd wear shorter skirts."

She laughed quietly. "And distract the boss from his very important tasks? Never."

"I love your legs," he said simply.

"Mm," she said. She pressed her thigh in between his and he moaned lightly. "You know, this is why we can't have serious conversations in bed. We always get distracted."

"I know," he said, the grin clear in his voice. After a pause, he turned away from the light hearted banter.

"I am sorry about us not working together."

"So am I."

* * *

The next day at work Harry gathered the team to discuss the Tourmaline incident. He was having a serious case of déjà vu and when he put Elena Gavrik's picture up in the meeting room, he felt a shudder of revulsion go through him. The lying bitch.

"We had Gavrik's wife?" Ruth said quietly.

He nodded, hating discussing this and forcing himself to be calm in these horrible circumstances. "For a time," he said. "She gave good intelligence for several years, and there were even plans to extract her and bring her to the UK, but they were never approved. She is a highly intelligent and ruthless woman. I wouldn't trust anything she says."

"What makes you say that?" Erin asked.

"Past experience," Harry said, avoiding the details of the question. The statement was very true though, _his_ past experience told him that she was a liar and dangerous. "I believe she was working both sides for a while, because Ilya Gavrik is clever. I don't think there's any chance that she stayed married to him for so long without him discovering the truth, that she had spied for Britain."

"Why is this relevant?" Dimitri said. "It's all cold war stuff. It's been over for years, why are you bringing it up now? What does it matter?"

"It matters because the Gavrik's are dangerous. And they're coming to Britain, they might already be here." Harry tailed off, wondering how much to reveal and what to hold back. "I want to know where they are, and what they're doing in this country. I want them tailed, but you have to be extremely good for Ilya to not notice you. He's very aware of spies, so be wary."

Everyone nodded and there was a shuffling of chairs as people left. Harry stepped on Ruth's foot lightly, an indication that he wanted her to stay put. She looked at him, but otherwise didn't move until Tariq closed the door on them. "What is it?" she asked quietly.

"I want you to stay on the grid," he said, his voice stern. "I don't want you going anywhere during work hours, except here."

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Until the Gavrik's are on a plane back to bloody Moscow, I want you safe."

"So you want to keep an eye on me?" she said plainly, and Harry could tell she was annoyed. "You can't watch me all day every day Harry. I find that insulting. That you think I'm not capable of taking care of myself. I'm forty one years old, I've worked for the secret service for eight years, on and off. I know how to look after myself."

"I know you do, but…"

"No Harry," she said, standing up. "Stop being controlling." With that she left the room and Harry sighed to himself. Why was he always saying the wrong thing, when all he was trying to do was protect her?

* * *

That night, Harry knew Sasha would break into his house, awaiting him to come home. So he didn't make up with Ruth, no matter how much he wanted to. Keeping her away from his house tonight was a good idea. He'd talk to her later. Or tomorrow. Once Sasha had vanished into the night at any rate.

Harry unlocked his door, then pressed a button to set the alarm. If he didn't enter the code within ten minutes, a back up team would be with him. So if Sasha did something that differed from Harry's memories, he'd have help. He could feel the reassuring bulk of the gun in his jacket pocket as he went into the kitchen. He turned the light on and found Sasha pointing a gun directly at him. He'd known it was coming, but having a gun pointed at you always made your heart race and some level of panic creep in. "I knew someone was here," he said. "People will be here in ten minutes."

"I'm not going to be here that long," Sasha said, sneering at him.

"You will not shoot me Sasha," Harry said calmly. "Shooting an MI5 section head in his home will make your parents lives much more difficult, not to mention your own freedom vanishing overnight. The partnership deal will be over before it's begun." The gun wavered, but Sasha didn't lower it.

"You know my name?"

"I remember you," he said. "Plus I knew I was being followed in the park, so I checked to see who." Sasha didn't seem to know what to say to that, so Harry continued. "Why do you want to shoot me?"

"I found this in my mothers things," Sasha said, giving Harry a note. He read it, but it was exactly like last time. "I'm part of my parents protection detail. Do you deny you wrote it?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "I utterly deny it. I haven't spoken to, or tried to contact Elena Gavrik in more than twenty years.

"It has your codes. You are lying," Sasha hissed at him. "Of course you wrote it!"  
Getting a man holding a gun angry was not the wisest thing to do. He might be trying to avoid Ruth's murder, but he didn't want to replace it with his own either. "Sasha, I am not contacting her."

"She spied for you back then," Sasha said. "She's spying for you now. Let her go."

"I want as little contact with your mother as possible," Harry said, keeping his voice calm. "Someone has breached MI5 codes, to write this information. I need to find out who." He spoke so urgently that Sasha seemed to believe him, and the gun dropped until it was aimed at the floor.

"I need to know," he said. "She's given enough to you and your country," he almost spat. "I want her free of you and this… mess. I'll be seeing you soon."

Before either of the men could move, the front door opened and they froze as they heard it close. Harry turned slightly and felt his heart plummet as Ruth came into his kitchen and Sasha raised the gun again. Ruth, himself and Sasha Gavrik in a room with a gun was not a healthy combination. Ruth's eyes flicked to Harry, then she saw Sasha.

"Leave," Harry told Sasha. "She works for me," he added to the unspoken question. She still had her eyes glued to Harry's face, which wasn't helping the point he'd wanted to make. That they had a professional relationship only.

"Oh really?" Sasha asked. "This late at night, I think it's more than that."

"Harry…" she said quietly. He saw the Russian look between them, the light flicking on in his head.

"Sasha, leave," he repeated. The Russian sneered and the left, closing the door behind him. Harry moved past Ruth, locked the door and disabled the alarm, so they wouldn't be interrupted by special forces. Then he turned to her.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Sasha thinks I sent Elena this," Harry said, handing her the paper. She read it, then her head snapped up. "You're still communicating with her?"

"No," he said. "Why would I bother? She's a liar, and all information from her would be unreliable. Someone else wrote that."

"Who?"

_Elena Gavrik wrote it to herself to frame me_, Harry screamed in his head. "I don't know," he said. "And I'll think about it tomorrow. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to apologise," she said. "I may have over reacted slightly, but you have to stop being so over protective of me."

"I worry," he said.

"I know that," she said. "I know you're not trying to restrict me, and it's because you care, but you can't be so protective of me."

"The Russians," Harry said. "The Gavrik's. They want to hurt me. To ruin me. And I'm afraid they'll try to do it by using you."

"Well," she said quietly. "We'll deal with that if and when it comes," she said. He smiled and kissed her briefly. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about that communiqué from Elena Gavrik?"

"Absolutely," he said, so firmly that she found it pointless to argue. She nodded and then lifted up the carrier bag he hadn't noticed before.

"I thought I could cook dinner," she suggested. He smiled and nodded as Ruth took her coat off.

* * *

**More soon. Thank you for the reviews so far.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I didn't mean to leave it so long between chapters, but I got stuck! Hopefully I'm out of the rut now. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The next morning they drove into work together. "I have an event on Friday night," Harry said as he turned right. "To introduce the Russians to London," he added, rolling his eyes. "I have to go and I have a plus one. Will you come with me?"

"Of course I will," she said, smiling at him. She reached across and put her hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. "You don't even have to ask." Harry tried to focus on the road, rather than her warm fingers, but it was bloody difficult. He removed her hand reluctantly.

"I don't want to crash the car," he explained and she smiled. The smile vanished slowly, when she thought about the issue she wanted to talk about. The one they needed to talk about, but she'd been pushing out of her mind and by the looks of things, Harry wasn't going to bring it up of his own free will either.

"How long were you sleeping with Elena Gavrik?" At that, his foot hit the accelerator rather harder than he'd intended, nearly hitting the car in front. "You had to have been sleeping with her," she continued. "A woman like that doesn't just abandon her newly married husband to tell British intelligence her husbands deepest secrets."

"Yes," he said after he'd got his heart rate under control. "I was sleeping with her."

"How long?"

"Years," he said shortly. "Don't be upset," he said.

"I am upset, but not for the reason you think," she said. "Were you married? At the time you had a prolonged affair with a Russian spy."

"Yes," he said, though he thought she already knew the answer.

"That is what worries me," she said. "I'm not going to accept being cheated on Harry. Not ever."

"With Elena?" he asked, feeling he would be more likely to fly to Jupiter than become entwined with Elena Gavrik again.

"With **_anyone_**," she said, eyes wide. "I shouldn't have to tell you that."

"I was a terrible husband," he said. "I didn't love my wife. And I met someone I had to turn to our side. For our benefit. The greater good." He spoke that phrase as if it were a curse. "Elena was newly married, but she didn't love her husband. She married him for protection. It was illicit, exciting and forbidden at the time. And I didn't care."

"Harry…" she said quietly, thinking that if that was the type of woman Harry wanted, what in the world was he doing with her.

"Twenty five years ago or more, that was what I wanted. I wanted dangerous and…. Well. I don't want that now. The thought of her… disgusts me, to be honest with you."

Ruth looked at her hands. "Are you just saying what you think I want to hear?"

"No," he said honestly. "If I'd never met you, I still would have no interest in her. My desire for her burnt out a long, long time ago."

"And… Sasha?" He looked at her sharply. "I can count Harry."

"He's not my son," Harry said firmly. "Elena lied to me when she found out she was pregnant. I believed it at the time, but I've had DNA tests done. He's not mine, but she thinks I believe that he is." Harry shrugged slightly before carrying on. "Elena is a dangerous woman. She always was, but I never allowed myself to see it. I don't want her to know that I know she lied about Sasha. She's unpredictable, and at the moment it would achieve nothing."

"Okay," she said quietly. She let it drop for which he was very grateful. God, he loved this woman so much, and he'd yet to even tell her.

* * *

Work was pretty straightforward over the following week, and Harry knew what was going to happen. He couldn't give too much away without looking crazy to his team, but he had told them that Marcus Collison, the attempted assassin, was to be refused entry. And all his aliases too. Harry didn't think the loss of Ilya Gavrik would be a bad thing, but he didn't want to start messing around with things that might have unknown consequences. No. He was going to have to stop him from being shot. For the time being at least.

Ruth had looked at him strangely when he'd announced the identity of the assassin, but he couldn't explain it to her. He was just thankful that she didn't pursue it.

On Thursday morning he heard that Jim Coaver had taken up his position at Grosvenor square and he arranged a quiet meeting.

When they were settled, Harry said what he had planned to tell Jim. "You need to get out of London," he said bluntly. Jim looked at him over the rim of his glass with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Why should I do that?" he asked.

"Because if you don't take the first flight back to Washington, you will never return to America alive," Harry said fervently.

"Are you threatening me?" he asked, voice turned icy cold.

"No," Harry said. "You're one of my good friends, in spite of the different countries we serve and protect. I'm warning you. It is not safe for you to be in London when the Gavrik's are here. It will end badly for you Jim. Go back to Washington."

Jim studied Harry for a moment, then inclined his head slightly. "I can see that they wouldn't like my company in London," he conceded. "But to give up my post? Go back to American in disgrace because I can't hack it here? You know I won't do that Harry. I was given this post because of my old connections with the Russians. I can't walk away for the same reason with nothing more than your hunch to go by."

The way Jim said "Russians" with distaste and bitterness made Harry's gut clench. "Look, I'm not the one who makes decisions in UK foreign policy," Harry said honestly. "This partnership will never work. But I have a professional duty to support it, no matter what I think privately. The Russian's cannot be trusted, those two in particular. They will kill you Jim. And they're going to try and ruin me too," he added, thinking of Ruth. At the echoed feeling of her dying in his arms he clenched his fists and closed his eyes briefly, before finishing off his whisky.

"Why do they want to ruin you?" Jim asked.

"I slept with Ilya's wife for five years, I'm sure that's self explanatory," Harry said dryly.

"Ilya knows?" Harry nodded, but didn't elaborate. Even if I leave the UK, some other irritating American will be in my place." Harry felt something inside him relax as he realised Jim was giving this serious consideration.

"Send someone here who has no history with the Gavrik's," Harry suggested. "It's the only way."

"I'll consider it," Jim said and Harry let the subject go. That was going to be as much of an answer as he'd get, and he knew that before he'd spoken one word to Jim this morning.

"Thank you," Harry said. "Another round?"

"This early?" Jim questioned, his lips forming a slight smile anyway. "Why not?"

* * *

"So, how do I look?" Harry's jaw dropped open as Ruth walked into her kitchen. Ruth wore a full length dress in a deep green colour, which nipped in at the waist, showing off her figure. It had two thin straps over her shoulders and her arms were completely bare and it revealed more of her upper chest than he'd ever seen while she was fully dressed. She wore minimal jewellery, just a silver necklace and some small earrings, but she didn't need more. She was breathtaking.

"You look…" he breathed out heavily. "Wow."

"Good enough to compare with your glamorous former lover?" Ruth asked, not even attempting to hide the fact that she disliked Elena from only the security photos she'd seen and what she knew about the woman's past.

"Absolutely not," he said, eyes still going up and down over her figure. "There's no comparison at all." Ruth smiled at what was clearly a compliment, judging from Harry's eyes which were bulging slightly. He walked towards her, put his hands on her waist and kissed her deeply. "You will be the most beautiful woman in the room."

"You do know how to flatter a girl," she said, pleased nonetheless. "Thank you."

Harry kept kissing her, deeply and passionately, making her heart race as his hands tightened on her body. She tore her mouth free and whispered, "We're going to be late."

"I know," he said with a grin before kissing her again.

* * *

**More soon. Thanks for reading and it would be great if you could spare a few seconds for a review. Thank you.**


	11. Chapter 11

Harry took Ruth's arm in the foyer and she squeezed him in silent thanks. "Ready?" she asked him.

"Are you?"

"No," she said, allowing a small smile. "Let's get this over with."

"I hope they have a decent scotch," Harry said under his breath. She smiled and walked with him into the grand reception room. Almost immediately they were greeted by the Home Secretary. "Hello Harry. Oh, and Miss Evershed," he said loudly. "You're looking beautiful this evening."

"Thank you," Ruth said graciously feeling Harry's hand tighten on her arm. She gave him a brief look and he loosened his fingers.

"I read your report, Harry. About Miss Evershed's professional successes," Towers said. "Very impressive. I'd like to have a conversation with you Ruth. To see if I can steal you from Harry. I'd open up a good job position for you." All this was said with an amused glint in his eye.

"I've never thought of it," Ruth said, a little surprised at the direction of the conversation.

"Do," he said with a politicians smile. He was called away and Ruth turned to Harry.

"I never asked about that report," she said. "Can I read a copy?"

"No," he said shortly.

"Why not?"

"It would flatter your ego," he said shortly. "And I… I didn't write it to be read by you."

"Please."

_If we're both alive by December, you can read anything you want._ Luckily, he only thought that, and kept his mouth shut. Instead he said, "Ruth, please. You know what a high opinion I have of you. You shouldn't need to read it written down." She smiled, and let the subject drop. "What do you think about the job offer?"

"He's not serious," Ruth said, brushing it off. "He's not stupid. He's suggesting it to see if I'd willingly leave you." She looked at him, her blue eyes vivid. "The answer is no, by the way. I wouldn't." He kissed her, just a brief brush of lips as they were in a public room full of Russians and spies. She smiled back at him.

"Seriously, think about it," Harry said. "It will be better money and hours."

"You think he's serious?"

"I do," he said.

"They're behind you," she said softly. He stiffened slightly but didn't change expression. "Let's just… get on with what we have to do," Ruth suggested.

"Thank you for helping me," he said, voice low and sincere.

"You need a private conversation with Elena Gavrik, of course I'll help." He looked at her sharply. "Sorry," she added with a small smile. He nodded but said nothing, and turned towards the Gavrik's who were by the bar (thank God). He could do with a drink. Harry had decided to talk to Elena to arrange a meeting, just as he'd done last time. He was very aware that his actions could have unforeseen consequences, so he had made the decision to stick to the past. As well as not tipping his hand to Elena until he had proof. Which meant he had to have a brief private conversation with Elena tonight to arrange the meet in the Opera house, and he knew Ruth wasn't happy about it.

He pushed that thought to one side and saw Ilya smiling at him. "Harry, I thought we would die before ever meeting again," the Russian said, a genial smile on his face.

"Thought or hoped?" Harry replied, an equally fake smile on his own. "It's good to see you Ilya." He reached out and shook hands with the Russian, before his eyes went to Elena.

"Allow me to introduce my wife, Elena." Neither of them could remember if Harry had ever been officially introduced to Gavrik's wife, but Harry went along with the pretence. She smiled charmingly at them as Harry introduced Ruth, with her real name as Towers had announced to half the hall who she really was. Harry felt an uncomfortable jerk at the thought that the Gavriks knew exactly who she was and what she meant to him too.

"Shall we leave the men to their politics?" Elena said. Ruth smiled and walked away from the men with only a slight hesitation, and ordered their drinks. Ruth spoke conversationally to the Russian about meeting Harry later, her voice low, before they even sipped their drinks. She wanted to get the business out of the way, so she could start assessing this past lover of Harry's. In spite of her best intentions, she was deeply curious.

"You know about me don't you?" Elena said quietly.

"The walls have ears," Ruth warned.

"You work with him?" Elena asked.

"Yes," she said. "For eight years or so now," she added, just in case Elena got the impression this was a brief fling. Which from the rise of her eyebrows had been exactly what she'd been thinking.

"He usually loses interest after so long," Elena said. "His wife… ah well." Elena clearly wasn't going to finish the thought and Ruth looked at the smirk on her face. She realised at that moment, that this woman had probably never loved Harry. And if she once had, she'd only loved the mask he'd presented to her. Never the man that he really was.

Ruth was grateful when she felt a slight pressure on her arm, and Harry's reassuring presence behind her before she heard him speak. "I'm just going to steal her away from you for a moment," Harry said to Elena pleasantly, accompanied by a smile Ruth knew to be fake. "Excuse us." Elena nodded with a polite "of course" and soon enough Ruth was free of the Russian.

"Sorry to leave you like that," he murmured. "Done?"

"Yes," she said, referring to the meeting. "She'll meet you in an hour. It feels oppressive here," she added. So many FSB and MI5 in one building. It's like the start of a bad joke."

He kissed her cheek lightly, before changing the subject. "Do you know, I've never shared a dance with you?"

"No," she said smiling at him. "You haven't." He nodded his head in the direction of the dance floor but she paused. "Is this because you want to dance with me or you want to avoid talking to Russians or politicians?"

"Probably both," he said. She smiled and took his arm, happy that he was being honest with her. Harry rarely lied to her, and when he did it was usually about an operation. Because he couldn't tell her, rather than the fact he didn't want to confide in her. The fact that this spy felt he could be so honest with her warmed her.

* * *

Later that night, when they were both safely back at Harry's house, Ruth looked at herself in the mirror. She was tired, but all in all tonight had gone well. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck gently. "Can you help me with the zip?" she asked quietly. He nodded and pulled it down, letting his fingers graze over her spine softly.

"How did you do it up?" he asked, as he hadn't zipped the dress up earlier in the evening.

"Oh, I can reach," she said. "But I like an excuse for you to touch me." He laughed lightly, as she got out of her dress. Without thinking much about it, he reached for her breasts and cupped their full warmth, squeezing gently.

"Oh," she said, a sigh of pleasure. Then she shrugged slightly as his hands drifted down her body very suggestively. "No, not tonight Harry," she said. He dropped his hands at once, slightly surprised. He usually initiated sex, but she'd never said no before. "I'm too tired to even think straight," she said. "And I don't want either one of us to be thinking of a red headed Russian when we have sex."

"Fair enough," he said. "I love you." She turned to face him in surprise. She hadn't expected to hear that, or more accurately, not now. The first time he'd ever said those words to her, and he hadn't planned to say them right now. They'd just slipped out, but Ruth didn't look too shocked.

"I know," she said, smiling at him. "I love you too. For what it's worth."

"It's worth a great deal," he said, kissing her passionately. She smiled when they broke apart, before getting under the duvet cover. She clearly had been tired, because she was asleep within a minute. He smiled at her sleeping form before getting undressed himself. He lay down in bed next to her and spoke again. "I love you." He treasured the way the words sounded. He'd rarely said that sentence before, when he meant it. He'd said it a hundred times when he hadn't. To his wife, to keep the peace when he'd long since stopped caring for her. To assets over the years, to keep them on side. He was ashamed that Elena was not the only woman he'd used this way throughout his career. To women he was in lust with, rather than in love with, when he'd been too young and naïve to know the difference. But with Ruth, he meant it with his whole heart. He kissed her sleeping cheek, and the quiet sound of her breathing carried him off to sleep.

* * *

**More soon, but I have a feeling it's going to get complicated. Thank you so much for the reviews so far.**


	12. Chapter 12

On Monday, Callum and Tariq were collating the information to hand over to MI6, in their weekly intelligence sharing. Callum was about to leave when Harry came out of his office. "I'll take that over to Vauxhall cross," he said in a voice that brooked no argument. Everyone stayed silent, looking at each other. Carrying a briefcase across to MI6 was far too much of a junior job for the head of section D to do.

"Harry, why are you bothering?" Ruth asked, the only one who would openly question him. He didn't answer, but his eyes flicked to his office briefly and she got the point. He took the briefcase with him as Ruth closed the door. "Why are you sending yourself on a delivery errand?" she asked. "When's the last time you delivered the weekly intelligence share?"

"About twenty five years ago," he said, opening his safe and pulling out two handguns. He checked they were loaded before Ruth managed to get her jaw off of the floor and speak.

"What's going on?" she asked plainly. "You're arming yourself to walk five minutes down the street and across the river? Why?"

"Someone's going to try to steal the information," he said briefly. "I want to be prepared."

"Who?"

"I don't know," he said, even though his mind was screaming Elena bloody Gavrik.

"How do you know it's going to be stolen?"

"I can't tell you that either," he said. "I have to go, I'm going to be late."

"No," she said firmly. "Talk to me. Make sense."

"Ruth, this… if it's going to be stolen I don't want anyone else to take the blame," he said. "My career is already hanging by a thread, it just… makes life easier if it happens to me."

"But why now?" she asked. "The last weekly intelligence share files stolen were back in 2001. What makes you so sure these ones will be stolen too?"

"I can't explain," he said earnestly. "Trust me. Please."

"I do, but you're not being logical."

"I'll be back in an hour or two," Harry said, shrugging off her imploring look. "I need a conversation with Nicholas Hastings while I'm there."

"Fine," she said, clearly not happy.

"It'll all work itself out," he said with a confidence he didn't feel. She was still glaring at him, but he pressed a brief kiss to her lips anyway.

"I'm going to want the truth when you get back," she warned.

"Okay," he said. With that, he walked out of his office, briefcase gripped tightly in his hand, leaving Ruth confused behind him.

* * *

He was very careful walking across Vauxhall Bridge. He knew this was where Callum was attacked and the information stolen. He kept his eyes alert, and then he saw them. The hired help that had stolen it last time. He stopped walking as they approached him and opened his jacket, showing clearly that he had a gun. They paused, looking at him as if unsure what to do. Slowly, his eyes fixed on them, Harry reached for the gun. It was enough and they scattered. Harry was wary though, and he didn't feel completely comfortable until he'd dropped off the case and was on his way back to Thames House.

When he returned to his office, he found Ruth sitting behind his desk. He smiled at the memory of the only other time she'd done that. Five years ago when Cotterdam was kicking off. None of the team had tried to stop her then, and it seemed that the same behaviour happened now. Unfortunately, this conversation wasn't going to be as pleasant as that one several years before, judging from the thunderous look on her face.

"Everything go okay?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes," he said heavily, taking his coat off.

"No thief in sight?"

"Ruth, please," he said. "Can you just trust me that I know what I'm doing?"

"It's hard to do that when you're not confiding in me," she said. "It seems like you don't trust me. Which after everything we've been through, I find a little insulting."

"Of course I trust you," he said. "You're the only person in the world I do trust so completely." She sighed heavily, but didn't speak. "Do you want to listen in this afternoon?" he asked. "When I meet Elena?"

She looked at him, wondering where that had come from. "No," she said after considering it. "I don't need to. I trust you."

"It wasn't about Elena," he said. "More that I trust your judgement, and I'd like your opinion."

"If you want me to listen in, I will," she said quietly.

He nodded. "If you wouldn't mind. I don't trust a word she says," Harry added.

"I'll listen," she said. "Can I…"

"Go on," he said.

"Can I use your office?" she asked, blushing a little. "I mean, you meeting her isn't official, and I don't want anyone else becoming curious about what I'm listening to."

"Of course," he said. "You can use my office, as long as you promise not to drink the whisky." She smiled slightly.

"I should get back to work," she said. She gave him an all too brief kiss before leaving and Harry sighed when he was alone. He'd managed to put her off for the time being, but he didn't like arousing her suspicions. Especially about a stolen briefcase, which turned out not to have been stolen in the first place. He could see it from her perspective and it looked crazy. If he kept going down this road, she'd demand answers at some point, and that would not be fun or easy to explain.

* * *

Harry walked into the opera house and saw the back of Elena's head. This was not a task he was relishing, but he was glad that Ruth was listening. He didn't want to keep her away from anything important relating to the Gavriks. He didn't want to lie to her.

"I don't have much time," he said in greeting, sitting next to her, leaving only one seat between them.

"It's good to see you Harry," she said. "After so long. Are you well?"

"Well enough," he replied guardedly. "How's your life been?"

"I've been well looked after," she replied, and they both knew she was referring to Ilya. "Why now?" she asked. "After so long, why did you contact me?"

"I didn't," he said shortly. "Someone is impersonating me."

"That's impossible," Elena said after a moments silence. "It was you. It had your codes."

"It wasn't me," he said. "I want to find out who it is."

"I told them everything," Elena said, her eyes wide and her voice sounding convincingly shocked. A good actress, Harry conceded. "I told… whoever it was everything about the Russian partnership with Britain. I'm sorry Harry. I thought it was you."

He sighed heavily. "Where's Sasha?"

"He's with the FSB looking after his father…" her voice tailed off. "He's with Ilya."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, why?"

"I think he'd be less than pleased to know that I'm here talking to you," Harry said honestly. Elena shrugged slightly, but didn't reply. "What kind of man is he?" Harry asked, playing his part.

"He's like you in some ways," Elena said, her voice very soft. Years ago, that voice had made him want her. Now it just sickened him. "He always was a good boy when he was younger. Did you never think of him?"

"Of course I did," Harry said honestly. He had, from time to time. In spite of paternity, Harry might well have been Sasha's father. It was only chance that had prevented it. They were silent for a minute or two and Elena shifted uncomfortably.

"Harry… is… are you wearing a wire?"

"You really think I'd put either of us in danger?" he said, affecting casualness.

"You might have someone you trust listening," she said. This was the single reason Elena Gavrik was still alive. She was too observant and too careful to be caught. "Ruth. I saw how you were together."

"Ruth is not a subject I want to discuss with you," Harry said firmly. He knew this might push her into one direction, but he couldn't discuss Ruth with Elena under normal circumstances, let alone with Ruth listening in. It was too twisted.

"You work with her don't you?" Elena continued, not letting it drop. "I can tell. The way you are. You were only ever going to be happy with someone you work with. You hide too much of yourself to everyone else."

She knew. That was the only thought running through Harry's mind. She knew that Ruth was listening and was trying to goad a response. If she'd been born a man, or been recruited before her marriage to Ilya, she'd probably be running the FSB by now, Harry thought with a grim admiration.

"I have to go," he said. "I'm going to need to read those communiqués. I'll arrange it so we can exchange them," he said shortly.

"Do that," Elena said. "Goodbye Harry." She squeezed his arm gently before returning her attention to the ballet dancer on stage. Harry left the opera house, and returned to the grid. He couldn't talk to Ruth as the wire was only one way. He didn't want to risk Elena noticing something out of the ordinary, and that would have required a small earpiece. He was eager to see her again.

It wasn't until he walked through the pods and saw her working through the glass of his office that he realised something. Sasha hadn't called him to help him dispose of the dead body. Harry had had no intention of helping him this time, but he thought it interesting that nothing had happened. Ruth looked up from his desk, as if sensing his presence and her lips softened into a smile. He refrained, until they were alone and he closed the door behind him.

"What did you think?"

"I think she's annoyingly perceptive," Ruth said. She stood up and kissed him hello, letting her lips linger longer than necessary. "How are you?"

"I don't like seeing her," Harry said. "And I think she's setting me up."

"How?" Ruth asked frowning.

"I think there were no communiqués," Harry said. "I think she's lying. She'd know all my protocols to fake it."

"Harry, that is wild speculation," she said, shaking her head. "Why do you think that?" Harry was silent, unable to say why without sounding insane. "Harry?"

"I can't," he said. "My logic makes no sense."

"It's not logic then, is it?" she said. Harry sighed. "Are you going to talk to me?"

"I don't trust her," Harry said. Ruth sighed and then handed him a sheet of paper.

"Jim Coaver's flight plan," she said simply. "He's leaving London in a week. Odd timing don't you think? Now that we know that someone's been impersonating you?" Ruth didn't wait for a reply and left his office, the door shutting with a final click. Harry sat down, massaging his temples. He had a headache coming on.

* * *

**More soon. Thanks for reading so far.**


	13. Chapter 13

That night, he went home alone. Ruth was still annoyed that he was hiding the truth from her, and he didn't have it in him to either lie convincingly or attempt an explanation. So it was with some surprise that he found her on his doorstep at two in the morning. He'd been asleep and thrown on a dressing gown, and it was taking precious seconds for his mind to wake up. "Ruth… wh…?"

"Why haven't you answered your phone?" she asked with desperation. He looked at her face and saw just how upset she was.

"I didn't hear it," he said, letting her in and shutting the door behind her. He'd charged it overnight, assuming no one would need to contact him as no cases were at a critical juncture. "What's happened?"

"Tariq's dead." Harry's jaw dropped open.

"Dead?" he asked quietly. "But… how?" Harry was horrified. He thought he'd avoided Tariq's death. Managed to avert it. But… now…

"A lorry hit him," Ruth said, her face crumpling. "Such a random thing, and he's gone!" She buried her face in his chest and he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Was it really an accident?" he asked desperately, unable to believe that Tariq could really be dead, especially after avoiding the main danger of Elena Gavrik.

"I think so," Ruth said. She pulled back and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her coat. "When they couldn't get hold of you they called me. I've had people look at the CCTV and got the MI5 coroner out of bed to examine his… body." Her voice was wobbling slightly again and she swallowed. "I can't believe it. I saw him a few hours ago, and…"

He held her close, and stroked her back. "I don't want to be alone tonight," she said. "Is it okay if I stay here?"

"You're always welcome," he said and she took her coat off. He realised that she wasn't even dressed. She'd just thrown her coat over her pyjamas and come over as soon as possible. "Come on, I'll make some tea," he said, walking into the kitchen as his mind tried to accept the truth. And making tea was just what you did, no matter how dreadful the circumstances. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour. Had it really been an accident? He'd check the CCTV himself when he got to the grid in the morning. Oh God.

He'd dealt with death frequently. He couldn't not do in his chosen career, but… Tariq? Murder would almost be preferable, rather than something so random and pointless. If Tariq had been murdered, he'd be able to get revenge. But, an accident… He realised his hand was shaking as he added sugar to their cups, and he dropped the teaspoon. Leaning over the counter, he felt Ruth's hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles gently.

"I'm sorry," she said, her hand staying on him. All of a sudden he fervently wished she was touching his bare skin. He needed her touch, and he turned to face her. Her eyes were damp and he knew she was on the verge of tears. He bent and kissed her, intending it to be a simple reassuring touch. It wasn't. Ruth pressed herself against him and he felt powerless to resist. Had it been a reasonable time of day, and had Harry been thinking clearly, he'd have stopped it. But he wasn't thinking of anything except Ruth against him, wanting comfort.

* * *

"We shouldn't have done that," Ruth said, pulling her pyjamas back on. Her thighs were sticky and she felt ashamed of having sex so soon after… well, _after_. "God, I can't believe I did that," she added under her breath.

"Ruth, you're in shock," he said quietly, stroking her hair. He couldn't disagree with her, the timing was truly awful. He'd fantasised about having sex with Ruth on the kitchen table, but never in these circumstances. It had been a desperate quick fumble, which neither of them had stopped and they'd probably both needed. "Come to bed. You need sleep," he added at her incredulous look. "You're exhausted."

She nodded because it was obviously true. They went upstairs and Ruth was asleep within seconds. Harry on the other hand got no sleep at all. He knew he wouldn't sleep, but he kept his arm around Ruth anyway. He was only laying down because he knew she needed him. His mind was running away from him and he couldn't stop it. At around five in the morning he received a message from Callum. No foul play. Just a stupid pointless bloody accident.

Apart from the fresh grief over losing yet another member of his team, the back of his brain was trying to work out what this meant for him. Or more specifically, what did it mean for Ruth? If he managed to save her from being stabbed by Sasha Gavrik, would she die a few days later in some benign or accidental fashion? He just didn't know and that was the most frustrating thing at all.

* * *

They dressed quietly in the morning. Ruth had taken to leaving some clothes at Harry's so she never turned up in yesterdays clothes, which was fortunate in the circumstances. "You didn't sleep, did you?" she asked, gently touching the dark circles under his eyes.

"No."

"I don't know how I should feel right now," she said quietly.

"Sad," he said. "Maybe a little lost too."

"Is that how you feel?"

"Yes," he said honestly. He was about to say something else, but his phone buzzed with a red flash and he sighed.

"No time to grieve?" she asked.

"No," he said reluctantly. "We have to go." She nodded with understanding and he kissed her briefly before they left the house.

* * *

Ruth closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had a headache coming on, a result of the disturbed night and Tariq's tragic loss. She needed time to see straight. She needed time to breathe, and everyone else was handling the Johnny Grier case, so she did something she had sworn she wouldn't do. She went into Harry's office, needing a break from secrets and spying. Ruth closed the door and leant back against it, breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"No," she said. "I'm not."

"Go home," he said, shuffling some files around on his desk. That made her suspicious and she took a closer look. Tourmaline. Perfect, she thought.

"What were you going to ask me?" she said, accurately picking up on what he'd decided not to mention in view of her frame of mind.

"It's not the time," he said.

"Harry…" she said, the warning in her voice. "Just tell me."

"I was going to ask if you'd meet Elena for me," Harry said, hating himself for this. "I can't risk it." This was true. He wanted to stick to the script, but if Elena was spotted meeting him again it might unfold dangerous events that he had no control over. If you took emotion out of it, it really was simple. "And we need the communiqués. I want to prove that she forged them."

Ruth sighed heavily. "You don't know she forged them," she said reasonably.

"Yes I do," Harry said with a confidence he had no way of backing up.

"Why do you hate her?" Ruth asked. "I mean, beyond the obvious. Why aren't you even looking into Jim Coaver? He must know that British security forces have been tipped off, and he's instantly leaving the country! You don't find that the least bit suspicious?"

"He's an old friend, he wouldn't set me up like this."

"You haven't spoken to him in twenty years Harry!" she shouted, her emotions getting the better of her. She was also aware of the fact that Harry's office wasn't soundproof and she could feel eyes on her through the glass with the unfortunately open blinds. "You have no idea what he would do!"

"I do," Harry said stubbornly and she shook her head in exasperation.

"No! You're working off of some intelligence which you simply refuse to share with me." She sighed again, trying not to shout. Shouting never won an argument, and she didn't like that behaviour to start with. "Harry, I will go and meet Elena. But not until you tell me the truth. I need to hear it." He clearly had the information but wouldn't say where or who it was coming from, and he just wouldn't talk to her. On a professional level it was insulting that she couldn't be trusted on their cases, on a personal one it was deeply hurtful. "Why won't you talk to me? Who's telling you the information? Why are you blaming Elena? What was all that about a stolen briefcase that never happened? Talk to me." He looked at her, eyes blazing. He knew he'd have to come clean, otherwise there was a fair chance he'd lose her anyway. Just from his silence.

"Lock the door."

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**Thank you all for the encouraging reviews so far. More soon.**


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